Jorie Graham

In the collection

20

The blades like irises turning very fast to see you completely—steel-blue then red where the cut occurs—the cut of you—they don’t want to know you they want to own you—no—not own—we all mean to live to the end—am I human we don’t know that—just because I have this way of transmitting—call it voice—a threat—communal actually—the pelagic midwater nets like walls closing round us—starting in the far distance where they just look to us liked distance—distance coming closer—hear it—eliminating background—is all foreground—you in it—the only ground—not even punishment—trawling-nets bycatch poison ghostfishing—the coil of the listening along the very bottom—the nets weighed down with ballast—raking the bottom looking for nothing—indiscriminate—there is nothing in particular you want—you just want—you just want to close the third dimension—to get something which is all—becomes all—once you are indiscriminate—discards can reach 90% of the catch—am I—the habitat crushed and flattened—net of your listening and my speaking we can no longer tell them apart—the atmosphere between us turbid—no place to hide—no place to rest—you need to rest—there is nature it is the rest—what is not hunting is illustration—not regulated are you?—probing down to my greatest depths—2000 meters and more—despite complete darkness that surrounds me—despite my being in my place under strong pressure—along with all my hundreds of species—detritus—in extreme conditions—deepwater fish grow very slowly—very—so have long life expectancy—late reproductive age—are particularly thus vulnerable—it comes along the floor over the underwater mountains—scraping the steep slopes—what is bycatch—hitting the wrong target—the wrong size—not eaten—for which there is no market—banned—endangered—such as birds—sometimes just too much—no more space on the boat—millions of tons thrown back dead or wounded—the scars on the seabed—the mouth the size of a football field—and if there is no one there there is still ghostfishing—nets abandoned in the sea they continue through the centuries to catch—mammals fish shellfish—we die of exhaustion or suffocation—the synthetic materials last forever …

Jorie Graham